Power of Music

It started with Nelly Furtado, playing "Say it Right" as I walked confidently through the subway, singing to myself that the men staring at me "don't mean nothing at all to me....." I was no longer the out of place foreigner, but a misplaced diva strutting down the metro platform. Then it moved on to Tupac's "Baby don't Cry", reminding me that I gotta "keep my head up, even when the road is rough, never give up." If I am tired, the rhymes quicken my pace, if I am feeling timid, the words empower me. You can see the trend, play the song, and I go to another world. All that I want of the streets in Cairo is to belong, and the music helps numb my self-consciousness. So whether its Michael Jackson's "Beat it" Ryan Adam's "Gonna make you love me" or even Trick Daddy's "Cause I'm a Thug" I am addicted to listening to music in the streets of Cairo.

Before I forget, I would like to say a word or two about listening to music while walking through life. In general, I am not a fan. Back home in Ann Arbor I was the first to criticize the daily use of the ipod, isolating individuals on campus, limiting hellos to a brief wave and an awkward "how are you" left hanging without a response because my friend is apparently really, really into music. This all changed when I got to Cairo, ironically where it actually became on option that I might be hit by a car on a sidewalk. The music removes me, lifts me up from the chaos, and lets me feel like I am the only viewer of the movie around me, cause why else would there be a soundtrack? The music changes your mood, and thank god for it, because for some reason there is nothing like the abrasion of the streets of Cairo to bring down your morale.

"Young man, theres no need to feel down." what was that? "I said young man, pick yourself off the ground" oh no she doesn't, she doesn't actually play..."theres no need to feel unhappy..." drumroll please..."its fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!!!!"

I'll admit, I didn't choose the Village People on purpose knowing that it would be the best choice I have made since I applied for a Fulbright. I was fumbling with my ipod the other day, keeping it in my bag so as not to be that foreigner who counts her money while holding a map while wearing a an ol' glory fanny pack. I just wanted a song, any song, and thought that whatever I managed to get would do the trick. Then I heard the blaring of the horns...that snappy tempo, reminding me of 6th grade dances that I would rather forget. I groaned cursing myself for having such a horrible song in my possession...when suddenly, I looked around and understood. Every man I saw was no longer walking, he was promenading. The groups of men on the sidewalk weren't talking about the funny American girl walking down the street, they were discussing the great new community center where they can wear hard hats and Native American head dresses. I seriously thought that any second they would break out in the tried and true synchronized dance, which of course is a sort of universal language of its own. Y-M-C-A! We would give each other high fives and someone would do a back flip, it was going to be sweet. From that day on, I decided to put the Village People on the top of my play list. Who said Egyptian men were machisto? From what I can tell, they don't want me, they just wanna dance.

Sense of Humor...

You gotta have a sense of humor to survive in the mideast, this goes for both visitors and permanent residents. Even serious topics sometimes are made the subjet of jokes, not because they aren't taken seriously, but because life is hard enough without some comic relief. For instance, an American might get seriously offended if an Egyptian makes a joke about terrorism. "That's not funny, how can they make a joke Osama bin Laden? I don't appreciate someone making light of 9/11." I completely respect each person's right to take offense at what they feel is appropriate, but I would be very skeptical of an American telling an Egyptian to take terrorism seriously. Egyptians have had more than their share of terrorism, the 90's were practical a constant exchange of terrorist attacks and crack downs in this country. Even in the past few years, there have been attacks at resorts, and certainly there have been numerous attacks foiled before they were executed. I probably shouldn't be posting this on my blog, and my intention seriously is not to terrify my mother, but rather to prove that no one needs to remind Egyptians that terrorism is a serious subect. But, like I said, this doesn't mean that you can't crack a few Osama jokes once in a while.

The other day I was at the gym, and I struck up a friendly conversation with one of the trainers. "Morning of Goodness".."Morning of Light!".."Morning of Sweet Cream!"...and so on. He was thrilled that I knew the Arabic greetings, and went to go find my sports bag which they keep in a giant closet. My "sportsbag" is actually a grocery bag, plastic and horriblly difficult to see amogst the dozens of addidas bags in the closet. He was having trouble finding it, and I went back to see if I could help. We finally spied the bag way in the back of the closet, we laughed at how far back it was, and then my hero practically fell into the closet in his efforts to grab the bag. When he emerged, we laughed again (lots of laughing when lost in translation) and then I began to thank him for his efforts. However, one really formal way of saying "striving" or "effort" in arabic is..drumroll.. jihad. So I didn't think twice and excitedly said.."Thank you so much for your jihad!" While he knew what I was tyring to say, he also knew that I was American, and knew what most Americans think of when they think of "jihad". He laughed and said..."no no..I am not Osama bin Laden!!!" I laughed (again) and made it clear that of course I know that "jihad" linguistically just means effort...striving, and continued to awkwardly thank him for his "struggle" for my bag. Just about to leave, I realized that I didn't even know the name of my valiant trainer. "Sorry, what is your name?" A sheepish look came over his face, he smiled, and the looked down at his name tag which read "OSAMA". Then of course, we both laughed.